Harbinger
by Thefanficmistress
Summary: Wolverine and Cyclops are on different sides of a fight that has wide spread implications. 3 snippets. I just realized that I had uploaded the wrong version of snippet #3. It's corrected now READ and REVIEW!
1. Chapter 1

Title: Harbinger

Author: thefanficmistress

Author's notes: Think of this as a test run. Like a drabble to see if I can write these characters. I like fully visualizing a scene like this especially between the boy-scout Scott Summers and the brutal man known as wolverine. Tell me what you think.

They stood at odds. Eyes transfixed while the storm outside churned with wild aggression. Lightening lit up the turbulent night sky and thunder made the ground shake. His chest heaved. How long he'd been standing, staring he didn't know. He knew what clump of dense shadow his adversary was hiding in, but he couldn't see him through his ruby haze. Rain percolated through the cave ceiling unsteady like an old-fashioned coffee maker. He was wet through and through and every time he breathed in a surge of pain shot through his chest. He lifted his sticky hand that clutched his shuddering ribcage to find it coated in murky crimson. The devils paint sluggishly slid down his arm turning the little puddle of water at his feet a cooper brown. He swayed slightly but kept his stance hostile and his face concrete.

"Turn around and go home cyke! All you've gotta do is forget what ya seen and go home." The voice growled from the shadows, echoing off of the cave walls. The voice seemed disembodied like some sort of hissing spirit from Mother Nature herself.

"I can't do that! You know I can't do that. The professor has given me strict orders…" He shot back through gritted teeth.

"Don't push me anymore cyke! Don't push me." The voice rumbled. It wasn't a threat, more like a plea. A plea from a man who had reached the end of his patience.

"I don't have a choice. You know that…Logan." He sputtered. His legs wobbled but he willed himself to stand.

"And you know that I can't let you take 'em Cyke. He'll kill him." The voice sounded matter of fact. Blunt and final. His eyes suddenly glowed in the depths of the shadows like a black cat's on Halloween. Yellow rimmed voids staring dangerously from the blackness.

"What's the alternative? TELL ME!" Cyke roared and his hand shot up to his visor. He shot off several deadly bursts. One after another at those glowing eyes. His head recoiled with each shot in his weakened state which only helped to further blur his vision. Finally spent he stopped and panted. The dirt and mud and ozone settled in the cramped cave and he found the once concealed man standing in the open. He was crouched low, lips curled back in a threatening snarl. His hair, no longer in the two points, was now slick and plastered to the sides of his face. His ears, looking almost elvish, poked through the limp blue-black hair. Cobalt eyes scanned Cyclops for a second then lowered to the bundle in his arms. A young boy, barely 2 years old lay unconscious. Dirt and mud smeared his cherub face.

"Logan listen to me! I don't want to do this but I've seen the future! The professor has shown me what he'll grow up to do…" He bellowed and then huffed, finding it harder and harder to find the air even though it was all around him. He closed his eyes to cope with the pain, shutting off his other senses in hopes to reroute his energy to manage the raw and exposed nerve endings throbbing on his chest. He opened his eyes unsteadily to find a shadow looming over him. The presence was so close he could smell his musk and his murderous intent seemed to invade his mind and smother him. With shallow breaths the fatigued x-man fell to his knees, cradling his burning chest and coughing uncontrollably.

"Even if you kill me now…The others are already on there way." He muttered. The lightening clashed at the mouth of the cave and the thunder quickly followed. The air was thick and moist and his cloths clung to his skin like on a hot summer day, but he was far from warm. He looked up to see the feral man looming dangerously over him. The rain water tracing along his iron features and then dripping from his chin. His clothes were in tatters but physically he didn't have a scratch on him and all Scott's mind could conjure was how unfair the world could be.

"You…you are the harbinger of death Logan." Scott sputtered. He moaned almost pitifully. The pain finally reaching its apex and his hard exterior melted away leaving him with only acceptance. His shoulders slumped and his head lulled.

"Since when has chuck put out a hit on an infant?" The brutish man growled in his ear. His hot breath and gravely voice engulfed him and Scott froze like an ancient weeping statue, on his knees in the cold, conceding to his enemy. His words were like a song he'd never remember the lyrics too. Seeming to enter one ear, slither around his brain like a snake and then slide out of the other. The gist of his statement wasn't lost on him, the accusation made his stomach flop.

"I know I can get through to this boy but if the time comes, when I don't think I can reach 'em, Ill kill 'em myself." He hissed and then he was gone. Lost amongst the chaos of the outside world, amongst the angry winds of Mother Nature he went. Scott's com suddenly cracked and sputtered.

"Scott, come in. The black bird has touched down and we are on our way." Storm's commanding voice boomed over his water damaged com unit. He let his body finally hit the ground with a wet thud. Face down in dirt and blood and filth. All he could think about was the morning, when he had woken up to sunshine and chirping birds. How could things go so wrong so quickly…

Tell me what you think. I'm really interested.

And also tell me if you'd like to see a story centered around this snippet.


	2. Chapter 2

Title: The Harbinger

Author: thefanficmistress

Author's notes: This is the second snippet in the same series set years later. Once again it's a confrontation between Wolverine and Cyclops but the tables have turned.

Chapter 2:

This was it. The keloid wound on his chest itched with anticipation. He scrubbed his dirty hands over his red rimmed eyes and then replaced his sunglasses with his battle visor. His ruby sight matched his deadly intent. His breath billowed from his mouth like smolder from a smokestack. The night was cold but surprisingly still and he could only hold the weather witch accountable for that. A tree smoldered black and dead to his left, hit by a stray lightening strike from Storm. It's now leafless branches stretched out boney and twisted like a witch's wiry fingers. The air still crackled with electrical charge. A figure, slumped and lame, stumbled ahead. Wheezing and sputtering with an uneven gait the man disappeared into a run down building at the end of the street.

"Head back to the blackbird Storm. I've got this from here." He spoke solidly. The muscles in his jaw clinched and unclenched as he stared straight ahead. The cold leather of his gloves crackled as he bunched his fists.

"Scott…" She started, lifting her hand to rest it on his shoulder but she hesitated. She watched the thick clump of muscle that was his shoulders bunch with irritation.

"That's an order Storm, You've done your part." He quickly dismissed her. He stepped away leaving Storm in his wake. His steps were determined and his stride was long. The deep scar tissue on his chest felt tight and almost suffocating. His scar seemed to scream for retribution, seemed to need it or it would swallow him whole. He walked until the building came into view. Tall, dark and isolated at the end of the street. The street was still and no one was present, almost like a ghost town from the old, old west.

His steps weren't cautious, not in the slightest. He had the upper hand, he had the power and he would get his revenge and he was drunk with the feeling. He entered the small building and immediately his ears picked up a sound he hadn't expected. The hushed snivel of a child drifted down the stairs. He balled his fists and pressed on. His hand poised at his visor. The stairs squealed and moaned with each step he took. The eerie wailing grew closer and closer as he ascended the stairs. He reached the top landing and found the rooms dark and lifeless except for one. With a soft yellow glowing underneath the door he could hear whispers coming from the room at the end of the hall. A voice he didn't recognize murmuring in a small pleading voice. He didn't hesitate. This is what he waited all these years for. With a swift kick the hinges snapped and the door caved inward falling with a boom to the dusty wooden planks. He stood immobile in the door way. His face creased in a frown and his chin poised high and mighty. The smell of burned flesh filled his nostril, acrid and acidic, making his eyes water and his stomach lurch. Quivering orbs filled to the brim with tears stared back at him. Pink lips quivered and rosy cheeks bunched up with dread at his sudden entrance.

"No!" The child screamed, throwing his tiny arms around the putrid mess of a man on the floor. Scott let his eyes rack across the scene. The blacked flesh of the man lying splayed across the dilapidated floor boards stood out grossly against the pale pink of the young boy's skin. His wounds looked angry and oozed sluggishly. The irregular rhythm of his lungs filling and releasing filled the silence and his throat whistling with each exhale rung in his ears. Storm had certainly given him a lightening strike he would never forget. A bag laid haphazardly by the boy's side with all its contents poured out around him. A box of band-aids lay on the boys lap. It was almost amusing, band-aids to cover such vile wounds.

"Logan, get up and face me." Cyclops spat but he didn't respond, his chest just rising and falling, sometimes with far too much time in-between. The boy's eyes never wavered from Cyclops' ruby visor. He shook like a leaf and his tears fell on Logan's deeply charred face like a leaky faucet. Scott took a step forward and the boy shouted again.

"Leave him alone!" He blurted and then stood. Fists balled tight, his teeth exposed like a tiny feral animal but his eyes were wide and fearful like skittish prey.

"Who…Who is the harbinger of death this time?" The voice stuttered and rasped from the floor, gurgling and wet. The boy stood his ground, seeming to mimic Logan to a laughable degree. The show of strength was so ludicrous coming from something so small and utterly defenseless yet his defiance touched something in Scott he had forgotten he had.

"Aden…Hide where I told ya. Hurry…" Logan muttered and the boy hesitated but seemed to understand the situation enough to listen. He hurried from the room and his choppy footsteps quickly fell away. Scott watched him go and even though his mission was simply to catch the boy and bring him to Xavier he couldn't pass up the steaming pile of smoldering revenge laid out so perfectly before him like a thanksgiving spread. The corner of his lips turned up slightly as he approached Logan but just as suddenly as the slightest of smiles captured his lips his features fell into a precarious frown.

"You stole everything from me…" He began while circling Logan to drink in his condition.

"I died that night. Face down in blood and dirt and filth." He continued. He reached up to his visor, adjusting the setting high enough to rip the man asunder.

"Do you know what I had to go through? What they had to do to bring me back!?" He hissed. With one hand rubbing the throbbing scar under his thick leather suit he turned his attention to his reflection in the dingy window. He was pale, ghostly even and his skin was always cold and clammy to the touch. Even in the heat of the room his breath rolled out cold like on a frigid winter morning.

"I don't belong here anymore…I was meant to die that day. I'm a man with no meaning, no purpose. An abomination that's over stayed his welcome!" He yelled and Logan didn't respond. His wounds were healing and Scott knew he didn't have much time before the man was back on his feet.

"Dead and detached yet still in this world." He muttered. His finger lay against the button on his visor. He was ready to completely obliterate this man, take his life and then bring the boy to Xavier. Hopefully then he could reclaim his dignity and hopefully then he could have his right to die.

"Kill me but leave the boy…" Logan grunted. His nostrils flared and recognition returned to his eyes.

"You know I can't do that. You know I won't do that." Scott said bluntly. A dangerous glow erupted from behind his visor, hot and forceful and demanding. His finger depressed the button on his visor and instantaneously the shutter opened, releasing the red death that severed everything in its path. The blast was far too loud for him to hear the boy scream from the door way.

Author's note: I decided to make a second snippet within the same series to show another stand off between these two characters. In the first snippet I gave wolverine the advantage. The small cave and dim lighting made it difficult for Cyclops to see and use long range attacks and rendered him almost helpless. This time around I want Cyclops to be more in control of the situation. Tell me what you think.

I'll also be adding one more snippet to this. I didn't mean for this to be a story…but I think to complete it, it needs one more entry.


	3. Chapter 3

Title: Harbinger

Author: thefanficmistress

Author's Note: This will be the last snippet in this series.

Snippet #3

A screech tore through the heavens as a flaming piece of debris soared through the air. The sky was filled with smoke and ash. His come unit crackled to life.

"Logan, keep moving. Get to the boy!" The voice boomed. Fires burned and buildings crumbled as far as the eye could see. The world around him seemed to slow down. He screwed his eyes shut. His dry sandpaper tongue ran along his blistered lips. Explosions rang out far too close to his position and rock and dirt rain down all around him. It was sweltering but no matter where he looked he couldn't find the sun.

"Logan go!" A man next to him wailed. His body was almost torn in two. He sputtered and gulped for air. His Muscles seized involuntarily as if his body was possessed.

"Just go…" He spat with what effort he had left. Logan grabbed for the chain around his bloody neck, yanking it off as his eyes closed and body went limp. He clutched the tags tight and then stuffed them into his breast pocket.

"Damnit Logan! Move your ass!" The com barked and he was thrown out of his reverie. He got to his feet, looked around his shabby cover of broken brick and broke out on foot. Bullets soared through the air peppering the ground at his feet, growing closer and closer. Hot pain shot through his shoulder and he fell down on one knee. Teeth gritted. His mind swirled and his lost his grip on the present. He found himself reliving a moment from the past.

"What…what's going on? How long have I been out?" He muttered. His head lulling and sleep crept up on him once again.

"You've been asleep for awhile Logan, in a healing Coma of sorts. It's quit amazing your regenerative abilities. It took us awhile to put you back together and even longer for your body to fully heal. As for how long you've been out, it's been…years old friend." Beast said in a quiet tone. Logan let the information sink in. Years? That couldn't be right and he shook his head with a frown. Had that blast from Scott done that much damage and if so…why hadn't they let him die?

An explosion with horrific intensity erupted so close it deafened him. His mind snapped back to the present. His ears ringing with white noise. He seemed oddly detached from the chaotic scene without the sounds. No blasts, no screaming, no yelling, just quiet and scorching heat. Like a silent film everything around him seemed like a horrible screen play. Mutants against humans, fighting for there lives. Death by gun fire he had seen before, Death by mutant abilities he could understand but him mind reeled when he saw Death by a force he could not explain. Entire groups of people seeming to just implode onto themselves, Bones crushing, bodies distorted and shoved into their center until they were just gone and all that was left was the blood that drained from them. Merciless death on a grand scale, a scene so big his mind couldn't process the implications. His mind slipped again. Slipped to the past…

"He's all powerful but he still has the mind of a child, A child who wants to have his father back." Beast said rising from his chair. The room they were in seemed on the slow road to ruble and the screams of war outside made him shiver.

"Scott and the professor are still determined to destroy the boy. The sheer implications of a child this young with limitless power… The world in the hands of a seven year old. Logan, it's simply inevitable what we must do."

The memory melted away and was interrupted by a familiar shrieking voice.

"Get up!" Rouge screamed as she soared above, moving with such speed the dirt swirled around in her wake. She drew the gun fire and he willed himself to his feet and trotted off. He could feel the familiar burn of his body rejecting the bullet lodged in his shoulder, forcibly pushing out the intruding object and attempting to heal. He could feel that familiar burn all over his body. He was riddled with bullets and shrapnel. It wasn't much further he kept telling himself. Just a little further. He entered the government building. More like a fortress built of metal and steel to keep in mutants, dangerous mutants. They had tried to house the boy here, not realizing the sheer scope of his abilities. It was ice cold and his breath bloomed out like fluffy white clouds. His skin prickled. Everything seemed suspended or stuck in mid air. As if the air around them had turned to gelatin. Everything suspended including the soldiers. There eyes staring at him, mouths open with shock. That told him enough. Everyone in the building was dead. He shuffled forward and with each step the tags in his pocket clanked growing louder and louder like a beating heart under the floor boards driving him insane. Stopping he reached into his pocket and pulled them out. Eyeing them with exhaustion, he ran his thumb over the engraved name.

"Lebeau" He mouthed then strung the chain around his neck and let the tags fall to rest again his own and for the first time the guilt of what he had done, what he was too blind to see, began to eat him alive. From the inside out his guilt and shame was a hungry creature that started in the pit of his stomach and then branched out to devour every nerve, every muscle, and every cell. Logan froze, and then collapsed; face pressed against the cold steel of the buildings walls. He couldn't catch his breath, his heart palpitated, and his forehead beaded with sweat. He could hear boot falls but he didn't care. There was nothing that could be done now, nothing to change what he'd already destroyed.

"Get up and right what you did wrong Logan." The man said looking down at him with disgust. His breath rolled out cold and Logan didn't have to look up to know who it was.

"Arent' you gonna say I told ya so?"

"I don't have to." Scott said taking a moment to look at all the death and carnage around him. Logan gritted his teeth. It was the faces that disturbed him more then the lingering stench of death. The surprise, the shock and horror. To imagine his boy had done something that would freeze a face like that.

"I wonder, I wonder if the boy hadn't gotten my temper, my feral side…I wonder if he wasn't so much like me if he could have controlled his abilities. Maybe if his father had been someone else he would have been able to control this…and we wouldn't be here right now." Logan whispered and Scott crouched in front of the feral man and the implications of what he meant weren't lost on Scott, not at all. Scott grit his teeth willing the old demon Logan had opened to recede.

"We don't have time for this. You need to move now!" He wrenched Logan from the ground to his feet and then shoved him towards the room the boy was held up in. Logan stumbled forward to the doorjamb. The entrance to the room was littered with bodies. Both mutant and human alike and Logan assessed that once someone stepped into the room they're somehow killed instantaneously. All there faces looked shocked and horrified and they were frozen like that for eternity. Gingerly stepping over the bodies he stepped into the room and the boy whirled around, glowing hands raised, eyes solid black, and his tiny frame engulfed in a light so bright it burned Logan's corneas. He could still see the innocent boy wrapped in all that raw power, He could still see the boy he had risked everything for. The boy that was a combination of his feral essence and the raw strength of the women he loved. He could recognize himself in all that anger and rage that poured from the boy and the shaggy red hair that fell clumsily into the boys eyes reminded him so much of Jean. Jean…what would she tell him to do right now? Without further hesitation Logan made short work of the distance between them. He fell to his knees and wrapped his arms around the boy. The boy stumbled back to support his weight. His eyes wide with surprise and in that moment there was a lull. The explosions stopped the screeching and tearing and chaos quieted. The only sounds were boots hitting the metal floor, sliding to a stop in the door ways. Ruby red glowed behind a bent and dirty visor, a tired face staring at Logan and the back of the boy's head. He nodded at Scott and then subtly looked behind him. Storm stood regal and tall. White hair splayed around her ebony shoulders. Her pupils sunk eerily into the vast milky white of her eyes until they were completely gone. Logan nodded at her and then closed his eyes with his arms wrapped tightly around the boy.

Today they'd die together.

So there it is. The beginning, middle, and end of a story. I could either leave it like this (as a sequential collection of snippets) or fill in the blanks and turn this into a multi chapter story arc. Just keep in mind that you already know the ending…

*The beating heart under the floor boards reference is from 'The Tell Tale Heart' by Edgar Allen Poe*

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